My Poor Porcelain Doll
by Illusion of reality
Summary: Sequel to, For the joy of Being in Love—Dorothy has a virus, Roger is sad, Norman is confused . . .


I do not own big o or any of the characters

I do not own big o or any of the characters or the or the piano song Dorothy played

For the Joy of Being in Love act two

My Poor Porcelain Doll

__

Someday, Roger, someday . . .

Chapter one: Can't I at least dream?

She still did not believe it. She couldn't have cried that night. How is it possible for a machine to cry? Or a doll to cry?

She dusted the table in the same place, sweeping over and over. She was watching his reflection on the waxed ebony top. The two had not talked much since that night a week ago. She had not even played the piano, he didn't mind.

Someone opened the door to the room. It was that woman Angle! How dare she? The so-called Angle made her way to the surprised Roger sassily. "I seemed to have forgotten something the last time I was here."

*She was here before? * thought Dorothy. 

"My necklace." 

*Necklace? * That could only mean they . . . Something in her felt as if it had stopped. She could feel tightness in her—*but no! I cannot feel! That woman—she's--she* She dropped her duster and ran out of the room. 

"Dorothy!" Roger called. "Where are you going? Come back!" his voice gradually faded as she went farther away.

She got out of the mansion and ran down the streets, where the rain poured, with her abnormal speed. Even if he came after her, which she doubted, she didn't want him to catcher her. She wanted to be alone. 

A dream, visions that move as if they were real which happen when we are asleep, confusing the mind.

Androids can not have dreams.

She heard the Griffin drive closer, passing streetlights, he didn't care. The water on the street was thrown up on its trail. Knowing no other way to stop her he turned tightly and parked on the sidewalk in front of her.

She was forced to cease.

He got out and walked to her. "Why did you do that? Dorothy?"

"To father I was a mechanical toy, and to you I am a doll! Nothing more than to sing and clean houses I was made!"

"No Dorothy!"

"And you! You hide behind people for you are afraid of who you are! You do not see that who you are . . . is a beautiful person."

He watched the rain stream down her pale body. "Dorothy, that song you sang was" his voice drifted.

Suddenly she was overwhelmed. Tears fell down her face without her knowing. Her damp, straight hair and her black eyes made her seem hopelessly lost.

He pulled her close to him. "Dorothy, you're crying." 

She buried her face in his body and wept. He pushed her away gently and tilted her head up.

"But no," she began.

He leaned forward.

"I cannot cry. I cannot cry. This can't be real. This can't be real. This can't be real," she repeated over and over.

This was when she fist felt something—his lips. Soft yet dry, what she had expected. He brushed them on hers and was about to again as she repeated her words. "I cannot cry!"

"DOROTHY!" Roger yelled. "Wake up!"

With a jolt she opened her eyes. She was in a dark, vast room on some sort of bed. It had all been a dream? A dream? Her eyes were wide and twitched one in a while with horror of what had happened.

The scientist, the android's brother, leaned over gazing down at her. The same man she had met on the streets that rainy day. He alone had seen her moving vision on a screen.

He placed his hand on her pale cheek. "No, you cannot, porcelain doll," he said sadly. For tears ARE emotions.

Chapter two: Gargoyle

When the scientist's brother had stabbed her with the dagger he had injected a virus in her system. One day she had collapsed while playing the piano and Roger did not know what to do. He met the scientist at the bar and the man told him he knew Dorothy and what he was. He agreed to help out.

After hearing the story Dorothy went outside on the balcony. The clouds full of rage stormed down their tears. They washed over her perfectly still body as she stood at her usual place. Watching over that man, Roger, as his car left the garage and went out.

Only a few more drops of rain later another car drove up to the mansion. A woman got out. She was very attractive, one that Roger could do more than just look at as she. It was that woman, Angle.

The blond wore a tight dress to show off all her curves. She had a big umbrella to make sure her perfect bun didn't get ruined. She had a feeling of being watched so she gazed up and saw the android standing there, watching over the home of her only . . .

The woman jerked back as the robotic eyes peered at her like a hawk through the sheets of rain. She felt her heart jump and went back inside the car and drove off.

Chapter three: tearless cry

Dusting. Quiet. Filled with sorrow. That is thy Dorothy. She went on with her chores as before, only now she never nagged, or said anything for that matter.

She looked down at an hourglass. He was very late. Dawn would be soon and he was still out. She went down to the room Norman had the screen from which Roger could see in the Big O.

Norman was watching with horror as Roger piloted the megadues. He was fighting another large robot. Sweat was found on his face and he tried his best to stay alive.

His loyal butler looked away, down as a tear found his eye. "Master Roger," he whispered. "if you don't make it—I mean . . . do have any last words?"

"Yes. Tell Angle I—" It staticed out.

Dorothy let a soft whimper escape her lips. Was he really gone? And . . . he had thought of Angle. With her knowledge of the human ways before one dies they think of their loved ones. Angle. Not Dorothy.

She left the room without ever being noticed.

Norman came up later. Wiping his moist face. As he past the room with the piano he stayed silent and saw this odd phenomenon. 

Dorothy played the song Canon very slowly. The saddest song he had ever heard. She whimpered and made all the noises one does when they cry, . . . yet she stayed perfectly still and without a single tear. 

"It might have been a side effect to when the virus got her," the scientist said.

"I'm not sure, Norman said that . . . well, he couldn't quite put it in words, but could feel the loneliness and sorrow in the air."

He thought the matter over. She had seemed a little different than any other android when he had met her. "Did anything happen yesterday, when it went on?"

"I was piloting the megaduse," the scientist already knew who he was when he wore that mask. "I was in trouble but he said he didn't think she knew."—he paused—"Do you think she could actually FEEL?"

"I think it should be, do you?"

Roger looked up from the phone receiver and saw Dorothy dusting a bookshelf. He stared at her. For that moment as moonlight came through the window and lit her face she was . . . 

The phone: "Well?"

"Roger! Wake up!"

He jolted awake. "What happened?"

The android tended more to his injuries. His chest was battered with deep wounds and so was his arm. He was lying on the large bed in his dark room. "After you fought you should have helped your cuts immediately. Why did you not?" She had thought about what he had done with in the time that he ignored them. What could have been so important? He had called him to know if she was all right.

It must be midnight by now. How long had he been out? He had bandages wrapped all around his bare chest and his arm.

"If you want I will inform Angle of your condition," she continued monotone.

"Why inform her?"

"Is she not your love?" she asked simply, but he thought he could almost hear pain in her voice.

"Of course not!"

"Then when you thought you were dying why did you want her to know you loved her?"

"What?" He tried to recall what he had said. He leaned up, but groaned and could not. 

"Lay," she said in a warm gentle way and put her pale hands on his shoulders to lay him back down

"I think it was cut off," he tried to explain. "What I said was, 'Tell Angle I was right about our bet of who was the one behind the case. You know me. A foolish bet is all I have here," his voice bitter. 

She turned and looked his right in the eyes. They were so close their noses could have touched. A quiet moment of both of them realizing so much as he looked into her eyes.

She suddenly stood and left the room. But before she left she had said that he was a wonderful person to him . . .

Chapter four: As I trace the line of your lips

Rain. So much of it.

Roger lay in his bed resting. He was out and nothing could awake him now. Not even the piano she would play. How he loved it, although he would try to hide it to have that wonderful morning ritual. 

The room was filled with dim blue light from the window and the floor and bed sheets were covered with shadows of the rain fall across the window.

A figure opened the door and came in, closing it behind. It went to the bed and took the pillow from below his head replacing it with her lap. 

The redhead gazed at him sleep. He seemed so perfectly peaceful, hansom, *So Roger * she thought without finding a word in her vast vocabulary to fit.

When she had gotten the virus he had not told her everything. She had been in that state for a month. He had not left the house till one day he wanted a drink to calm down and they had run out.

He had not uttered how he had placed her on his bed. He slept on the floor next to it. He had been depressed without her nagging and insults, but had not told a sole. Every night he would look into her glass-like face and wonder about the song she sang like a siren at the club. Her words his mind had clinked to. Why?

He was known for being a playboy and having a cold heart, or none at all, yet this android was . . .

She slowly put her finger on his lips and traced the line of them.

As I trace the line of your lips,

I don't knew who I am, or where I've been.

A drop of rain fell into a puddle making the noise of a tear falling on the floor.

She caressed his face with her hand hoping he would someday love her.

"Mmm" he put his hand over hers. This simple touch was warming his heart so. "Dorothy," he whispered in a rusty voice.

the forgotten past lies behind

And I—stand still in time

She leaned over and . . . kissed his soft, dry lips.

As the rain outside . . . cries with me

It might have been some mistake, some soft of illusion, but in that second in time an android cried. Tears that glowed.

Shed tears with me

In my heart I don't see who I am

And I don't understand who I've been

This is the truly lonely heart

. . . it is the end . . .

Someday, my Roger, someday . . .

THEREAFTER: 

The scientist watched the android cry. He had put a camera in her not wanting her in danger. Never in all his live did he expect to see something love a living creature so much.

Perhaps someday . . . he could make her more than just a little doll, with a pale porcelain face . . . 

NOTES:

Thank you for being so nice n stuff!!! The songs I put on here and the last are actually from original stories I made up, but they seemed to also fit here—so I thought I would put them. And yes I meant to put lies behind.

I hope you liked my fan fiction story! ^v^ 

(There will be one more part to the story. It's really short and I plan to put it up soon)


End file.
